Snapped
by zomgkateh
Summary: Victor's done some awful things, but now it's come to a head. He's hurt one of the only friends he had left, and she disappeared on him. She thought she had the scars, but does she have it the other way around?
1. Fight

_She's nothing but a scrawny little bitch. She ain't nothing but a little girl with weak powers, Victor. You know that, you know you can do better._

Was he listening? She couldn't tell. All she knew was that this was all part of her fucking scheme, her fucking trap to steal him back. All of this was so petty, she knew it in her soul but it always sucked when it was happening to you. Women were vicious cats, catty catty catty all the damn time. Stealing boyfriends, being sluts, you name it. Lydia knew she'd have a certain hatred for the blue-skinned Raven Darkholme the moment those two met eyes. She just didn't know why until now. In the midst of all she was doing to persuade him to switch sides. To come back to her, like a begging dog. Sure they had a kid, but if she would fucking remember, their kid wants to like, kill them and shit? It was barely considered a history. But it was still there, and Mystique seemed to be hanging on that and using that as bait for the poor cat.

The only light in her bedroom was the glowing of her cigarette, as well as the dullness of the alarm clock sitting on her dresser. 5:03 AM, with seconds ticking away. She hadn't slept all night and it showed by the poorly placed dark circles under her eyes, complimented by the redness of her eyes. She felt horrible inside and out, and she sure as Hell knew why. Everything she knew had gone down the shitter. Her reality was blasted away into a million pieces, stabbing the soles of her feet when she tried to cross the room to something better. She felt so goddamn pathetic, to be brutally honest. She thought she was done. She thought she wasn't going to trust anyone, anything. But then Victor Creed had to fucking come along and try to change her perspective on life. Didn't he feel like she was a lost cause? You can't teach an old dog new tricks, and she didn't believe she could break her ways so easily. And would you look at that, at the first sign of trouble she cracks and crumbles and hides. Like always.

She wasn't always this way. She used to trust, she used to like boys, and used to be people friendly. But just as everything else went down the toilet on one fateful day, all that trust and happiness flushed down with it. She thought that she was done trusting anyone ever again after her mother betrayed her children, she thought she was done letting anyone be friendly and get that prestigious title of friend in her book ever again. She'd done well for so many years, and she thought she had it down. Did he know he'd changed her? Maybe it was that lust at first sight shit, but she felt like a goddamn butterfly when she was around him. It was like fucking Beauty and the Beast, 'cept nobody could tell who was the beauty and who was the beast beyond taking a look at 'em. Two peas in a pod, practically like brother and sister when she joined the Brotherhood. Partners in crime, troublemakers, the dastardly duo.

And then he had to save her. Twice. Once from a bullet, the other from her own stupidity.

_Who the fuck are you to say I can do better?_

She tapped her ashes on the tray on her nightstand, deciding this insomnia wasn't going to do her any good inside. She needed to go outside, breathe, clear her head. Thinking about all this reality shit was messing with her head, she didn't know left from right for fuck's sake. Throw her a ball and tell her it's a bomb and fuck, right now she'd have thrown it and screamed. That's how jumbled he was. And for good reason. Really.

She put on something warm, plus those fuzzy boots she'd picked up on sale from the Payless down at the Mall, and headed outside. She didn't look too pretty and well fuck, she didn't care. She looked like shit and she knew it. Who cares? She wasn't out to win a popularity contest, unlike little miss Blue Skin bitch. The hood of her gray sweatshirt hung over her messy brown curls, seeing as it was a bit chilly and it was raining. Blocking the rain more than the cold. The cold she didn't mind, considering it was how she felt. Maybe that's why she enjoyed watching people freeze. She was probably cold all along, she just didn't know it. What a fool she was, thinking she could feel the heat. It was all a lie, she knew it. Who knows, maybe he was playing along too. Waiting for his blue-skinned broad to come back to him, and the curly-haired smart-mouth was just filler for him. He was a goddamned red-blooded man, she couldn't put it past him.

"What're you doin' out here girl?"

She stopped in her tracks, looking to her right. And there he was, in the flesh. He had the fucking balls to show his face to her? Was he looking for a fight? The gruff voice of Victor Creed was all she heard now, as they both stood under the bridge while it was still dark, sunrise not happening for a good hour or so. "Why the fuck do you care? It's none of your goddamn business what I'm doing out here," she snapped at him, like a viper and it was probably warranted. "Besides, don't you have an alien you should be fucking right now? Hmm? I'm sure you'd like some morning sex from _that_," she added, venomous in fashion and if he didn't tell by now, she was pissed and he wasn't in a good place. "Ouch, that really hurt my feelin's, girl," he replied sarcastically, those gray feline eyes staring her down. Was she prey? She doubted it. He didn't have the right look about him. She knew the difference between hunting and talking. Arguing. Whatever. All she knew was that this wasn't going to end well. "If you'd just stay in one fuckin' place I'd be able to explain to you and get you t'stop sayin' all this crazy shit! You're losin' it Lyd, all 'cause a'nothin'. I'm tryin' t'help and you just keep backing up and away, and I'll be damned if you go off the deep end just cause a'this," he then snapped at her, obviously angry as there was a slight hint of a growl in the voice as he scolded her.

She was then compelled to do something drastic.

The back of her hand met the side of his face in a harsh slap, uncalled for and without warning. Her eyes burned like fire literally and figuratively, those pale blues feeling like bright reds by now. "Don't fucking preach that shit to me, Creed!" She snapped, brow furrowed as she could've growled as well, if she had that kind of voice-box to growl. Oh and by the way, in her mind they weren't on a first-name basis anymore. "I'm not your little toy, don't think you can just come here and try to talk me down without expecting your little plan to be shot down! You're just the topper to my cake, Creed. I've been building it all my life and just when I think you've got me changin' it, you go and do this shit and stoop to an all-time low! Thanks for being a friend," she continued, raving under the bridge and raising the tone when the train moved overhead.

"Now you liste-"…"No, you listen! I'm done fucking listening to you, I'm done with everything fucking about you! I'm done with the Brotherhood, I'm done with your little drama, I'm done being pushed around and played like a pawn. This is my breaking point, there! You happy now? You can go on and be happy with your little alien bitch, instead of kicking yourself for picking second best…"

And if karma wasn't a bitch, and exceptionally fast, she felt his hand slap across her cheek.

"Don't you fucking talk like that! Twisting it around like you're the victim and I'm the bad guy…well you know, we're all the bad guys here if you don't remember! It just so happens that you just let your weakness get to you…you let it tame you. Don't hold me responsible for that," he snarled, but before he went on ranting, he paused. It was like he froze, finally getting eye contact with her pale blues. And he felt fear in her eyes, for the first time ever. He thought she was fearless…he must've done something wrong.

It took him a moment to realize what happened, seeing the claw marks against her cheek. He drew blood. Not a lot, but enough. She was bleeding, and it was his fault. Her eyes were wide as if in shock, not feeling the burning of her open scratches, but feeling the entire situation like time had stopped and it didn't want to start again. She wasn't crying. She knew that. Wounds didn't make her cry. But betrayal, oh how he'd served it to her. Her heart collapsed in on itself, her jaw clenched, and she turned away. Wiping the blood from her cheek, she remained silent.

"Lyd…Lyd I'm s-"…"S-shut up. We're done."

And with that, she was gone. Out from the bridge they'd been screaming under, out of sight. And all he did was stand there.


	2. Gone

He didn't know what to do. It was like a horrible, feral rush that came over him when he felt compelled to slap her. He felt pain from her slapping him, the animal inside told him to fight back. Defend yourself. Don't let her push you around. He gave in, and let those claws hurt her. He didn't even give her the reprieve of backhanding her. He hit open palm, claws extended. How much of a bastard was he…really. He knew he was a bastard, but did he ever think he could stoop so low? He had to apologize, at least make that right. He didn't mean to hit her. But he would wait a few hours. Let her cool down, get herself together. She was probably home.

But no, she was not.

He climbed through her window like he always did, thinking he could just surprise her and patch things up. But what he met when his boots hit the carpeted floor of her apartment was complete emptiness. Cleaned out, spic and span. No clothes, no trinkets, nothing that said she lived there anymore. He sniffed the air, not even a sign of the cat anywhere. Lydia's scent was there, but it was a few hours old. He'd waited too long. She high-tailed it out of that apartment, without even a flinch. Now he was the one feeling time stop and freeze for him, looking around. He was expecting this all to be a trick, that she'd pop out of the bathroom with that cat of hers and spook him. He even stood there a moment, waiting for it. But it never came.

He then pretended to think someone snatched her. Sniffing around for other scents, looking around for traces of a scuffle. But there was nothing. Nothing but…a note? He saw it on the neatly placed pillow, sitting there with a handwritten 'V.C.' on it. He knew her writing, and he knew it was for him. He opened it to find only a few choice words for him: _Don't track me. _Then it was signed in Lydia's penmanship. That's all that was left. He paused for a moment, and then finally time came back to him rushing and it sent him to his knees.

He did not roar in some forlorn manner like someone would've guessed. He did not growl, did not scowl, did not howl at knowing she was gone for good. He ached, but silently. He wanted to track her, find her, bring her back. She he had to respect these three painful words. He wouldn't disobey. But still, he had to admit that it fucking hurt him. Like the rug had been pulled out from under him. He wasn't going to let this get him. He folded up the shoddy little note and put it in the back pocket of his jeans, leaped out the window, and decided it was best to head back to the Manor for now.

He was greeted by Raven, who of course was trying to get on his good side and gain the ground she'd lost with their fight the previous night, all over that 'scrawny little bitch'. But he didn't buy it, not one bit. He growled when she touched him, and her surprised face was priceless as she stepped away. "What the Hell's wrong with you?" she bickered, chittering like an annoying little bird. He just growled again, throwing the note onto the table. "That's what's wrong, and guess what? It's all your fuckin' fault," he snarled. She took the note, read the three words, and would you look at that? She chuckled! The bitch chuckled. "Oh Victor you're just a little sore about it…this is actually a good thing," she replied, trying to sound nonchalant but she'd only angered him further. Victor then got right up in her face, teeth bared and she could tell he wasn't exactly happy, glaring at her and ready to rip her fucking throat out. "Yeah well good for you, not good for me. Your little show just screwed up everything else," he snapped, and pushed her aside. "I'm gone," was all he uttered, and as quick as he was in the door he'd gone right out. Out into the woods surrounding the Coal Manor.

_You can't keep playing hero for this little girl, Victor. You and I both know you're far from a hero…you've already done enough, let the little child be. Let her realize her dream's over. _


	3. Return

It had been weeks. Six, to be exact. Lydia had settled on the other side of the river, finding a place in Brooklyn. A steady job, good pay, something to bring her into reality. She didn't socialize unless it was with co-workers, her boss, or her cat, and she certainly never brought a boy into her cozy little studio. This was alone time. Recuperation. She needed to get some air after that fight with Victor, of which had mildly scarred her cheek (just some noticeable pigmentation change in the skin, nothing unsightly) and she got to play it off as some kind of tussle with a dog. She always told the people who asked that she was 'lucky she came out of it with just the scratches'. She wasn't about to tell them that she'd been hit by an abusive ex-friend of hers who had claws and sharp teeth. That just wasn't going to fly. Things had settled, she felt less volatile, and had even considered getting a second cat to occupy her time. To add to her excuses why she couldn't go on a date with the tattoo artist three blocks down who always came into the store to find some new art books for inspiration.

Things were settled, until at least she'd been greeted by someone she sure as Hell didn't want to see.

"Oh no, no no no you get the fuck out right now," she started, her eyes locked on the blue-skinned woman as she felt so bold as to come in here without putting on a disguise. The customers were gasping, her co-workers were bug-eyed, her boss was angry. "Oh shut up, this isn't about you. Outside. Now," Raven replied, stern as anything. What, was Lydia in trouble for leaving the 'Hood without a goodbye letter? A letter of resignation? She didn't think things were so formal. But anyway, she obliged and the customers shrieked as if this were some kind of hostage situation, but if they only knew.

Lydia lit up a cigarette as they stood outside the book shop, to the side alley that the trash cans were on and made for a more subdued environment. "What the Hell do you want, Raven? Come to ruin my life some more?" The yellow eyes of Raven's just glared at her, crossing her arms. "I told you, it's not about you. Gosh, so fucking conceited…look, it's Victor." Lydia's eyes widened some, but not in a fluttering, happy sort of way. It wasn't a name she exactly wanted to hear. She was about to end the conversation right then and there, but something, call it fate, compelled her to question. "What about him?" she asked, in a low tone, quiet even. "He's gone awol. He won't come inside, he won't let any of us talk to him, he won't do anything. He's snapped, Lydia, and we can't figure out why. I think…I think it was my fault. Please, you have to help us. Try to see if he'll talk to you."

"Wait wait, you want me? To talk to him? After what he did? He's lucky I left him a note!" she started up, voice getting louder the angrier she got. "And you! You think I'm going to help you? What a fucking joke!" she then added, laughing at her and taking a drag of her cigarette. "If you think I'd say yes, you have some serious problems!"

"Listen you little ingrate," Raven hissed, getting up in Lydia's face and plucking that cigarette from her mouth, extinguishing the thing on the asphalt ground. "You'll either do it, or you can just go back to your little fantasy world inside those books. That seems to be all you can do now, hmm? You can't handle reality so you hide here, you run away. So now you get a free chance to retaliate, and you diss it? I'm not the one with problems," she then said, waving her off as she started to leave. But then the blue mutant felt her wrist grabbed and it was Lydia, stopping her. "Just…just...take me to him."

They were at the edge of the woods surrounding the Coal Manor, followed by St. John who was the last one to see Victor Creed in the woods. "Last time I saw him, he was sorta over in that direction," he pointed out, motioning to the eastern part of the woods. "Dunno how much ground he's made though. Good luck," he said, patting Lydia's back. She then glanced at the two of them, giving them a hard look. "If I, or we, are not back by morning, you'll know I've failed." She then nodded to the two and started on a very disheartening hike through the woods.

He could smell her. He knew that scent anywhere, and it was unmistakable. Why in fuck's name was she in _his _woods? Yes, they were his now. He claimed them. It was like his mind snapped into something more feral when he'd stepped into these woods. He wasn't caring much about appearances anymore. He was hunting. He was eating his kills raw. He slept outside. He was basically an animal on two legs right now, with the added benefit of being able to speak. Nobody could even fathom what was going on in this crazy man's head, all they knew was that they just could not get him to at least come back inside the Coal Manor. It was like a lost cause to them. He knew it, and he didn't care. All he cared about were these woods. This was all he had, and these trees would not betray him.

However, his nose would. He thought he was being tricked by his mind, even checking the air again. She was definitely here. East. But what on earth was going through that mind of hers? Not to mention who put her up to this? It was like asking for a killing here, nobody could predict how feral he'd snapped into. He could just pounce and kill her, not let her get in a word. But someone, one of those former team-mates of his must've felt some confidence in the curly brown haired, blue eyed girl.


	4. Woods

She walked quite far into the woods, and no she didn't leave a trail of bread crumbs to lead herself back to the Manor. That obviously didn't work in fairy tales, it sure as Hell wouldn't work in real life. So she just allowed herself to become lost. Maybe she could just end all this now, and let a wolf kill her for food. Snap her neck with its jaws, eat out her organs then give the remains to its pups. Yeah, that would be epic. But painful. Dying was painful, and she'd much rather avoid physical pain for the time being.

She heard something crackle and she stopped in her tracks. She couldn't see it, it was getting a bit dark. She fumbled for her small flash light but it wasn't fast enough to track the rustling. She heard it again, and she turned to face it, but still couldn't see. But then she heard it. Him, rather.

"Why are you here?" he growled. She was unsure of his reaction to her being here, and thus of all things she decided to sit. It was easier than running. She couldn't run. She had to hold her ground. She just sat on the ground, and would you look at that it started to snow. Little white diamonds falling from the sky, and soon enough she could see his silhouette lined with white snowflakes. He didn't look right. Being out here, it changed him and she couldn't help but feel her heart sink. Why? Who knows.

"To help you," she said quietly, shining her flashlight on him. She saw he hadn't shaven in awhile, didn't look all that clean, like a regular mountain cat. Her reaction wasn't well received as he snarled, turning away from her in the coming darkness. "You…help me? That's a good lie, girl," he growled, obviously not believing her. She didn't talk back, she didn't back-sass, nothing. She just sat there, quiet, flashlight pointing out into the darkness. There was a balance here that needed fixing. She didn't know how she was going to do it, so she just let her instincts guide her and apparently her instincts just told her to sit and be quiet.

She closed her eyes, settled the flashlight in her lap, and shifted into a more comfortable position. She was only listening now, listening to his footsteps and how those boots crackled against the poor branches beneath them. She was pinpointing his location, letting him do whatever he want. She was sure he'd left her for a time, of which she wasn't exactly okay with but her instincts didn't tell her to go running home. She remained sitting, right there in that same spot. Her eyes remained closed, until she'd heard a thump very, very close to her position.

Eyes opened, the flashlight shone, and right in front of her, sitting cross-legged and maybe six inches away from her was a very forlorn looking Victor Creed.

"What happened to you?" she whispered ever so softly, and he looked away. "Was I really so cruel to you? After what you did? You didn't think I would save myself from being hurt by you again, Victor? I ha-"…"I know, I can see the marks." He sounded apologetic, if not submissive, obviously not happy about what he'd done in the past. "Is this all...is this my fault? Did I make you snap? Did I send you AWOL?" she then questioned, though it was all rhetorical. He wasn't meant to answer. He just grunted, hands on his knees as he just sat there, silent. "You know why they sent me out here. Raven wants you to come back to the manor. But you don't have to go back," she then said, shaking her head at him.

"You don't have to go back," she just kept saying to him, quietly. She didn't know what else to say, for in all senses of the word she was lost. Like a poor little kitten, like Oliver the red tabby who walked the streets of New York City with Dodger and the gang, until Penny picked him up and took him into the lap of luxury. The only thing was, she didn't forsee a happy ending. Penny wasn't going to find her, Dodger and the gang were abandoning her, and she didn't have anything left. Her head was hung low, refusing to look at him. She stared at her hands, fingers laced together so tight her knuckles were white with fury.


	5. Memory

"You had a choice, you know." Did he really just say that. "You didn't have to leave like that." Was he really that dense? After all she was saying, he decided to say this? He could've said so many other things like, 'it's not your fault' or 'I'm an idiot don't listen to me,' or 'I'm sorry.' But no, he had to agitate the situation. Her eyes moved up to his face and she wanted to scream like a banshee at him. So easily did he find a button to push, really! "A choice? You think I had a choice? What fucking choice did I have?! To roll over like a dog and submit? The only choice I had was to get out, and I did. There was no other way. I don't know what the fuck you've been smoking out here but I think you need to cut it out right now."

'The only choice I had was to get out.' She had to get out. Get out of Manhattan, get out of the Brotherhood, get away from him, and just…get out. She felt suffocated. Betrayed. Unwanted. There were many reasons behind the reactions. Magneto, who was supposed to be her leader, was her biggest betrayer. Without a shred of self-doubt and conscience he sent her on a mission that was bound to fail. Bound to make her pay for something so small and harmless as a little romp and play-date with the local cops. What he made her do…it wasn't worth it.

He didn't even know what happened…how she was brutally beaten to a pulp, kicked into submission, drugged unconscious. Cut and burned, forced to bleed and kidnapped while they contemplated on how to kill her slowly in payment for her being told by her leader to disrupt the plans of the Friends of Humanity. She laid in a god-damn bed for six weeks all bandaged up, ribcage bound, popping pill after pill as she avoided the hospital, all thanks to him and she couldn't even tell him because he'd mysteriously disappeared, lost his memory, and was now trouncing around New York City as an elderly man who didn't even know he was the leader of mutant supremacists everywhere. She wanted to kill him while he was still ridden with amnesia. She wanted to strangle him, to watch him struggle to breathe until he couldn't anymore. She wanted to make him feel so cold that his fingers would go gangrene at the same time the hypoxia settled in him. She wanted to make him feel what she felt while on the ground in the fetal position, being kicked like a dog. But this was only one piece of the puzzle.

She didn't even know why she was helping the Brotherhood. She wasn't friends with any of them. In fact, she had more enemies within the Brotherhood than she did outside of the fractured faction. Even with their leader there was no structure, everyone was a free agent who didn't even feel the need to look to Magneto as the head of operations. Now with him gone AWOL they were like mercenaries, refusing to believe in team effort, team trust, anything. She'd been choked and thrown into a wall by Cameron, stolen from by Mortimer, and left to fend for herself in the subway by everyone else. What kind of team is that, to leave people behind and make everyone fend for themselves? She was glad to be gone…she didn't need to deal with that so that she could be left for dead on the street. And then the only one she could trust snapped like a twig and scarred her. Hit her with an open hand, claws extended.

They were both silent then, for a good amount of hours until she could see day breaking from afar. She had to go find some food…she wasn't getting anywhere with him. He wasn't talking and she wasn't going to talk back, she knew that much. So for now she'd walk back to the manor and snag some food, tell them how stubborn he was being, and maybe she'd walk back out there for another try. With a flick of the switch of her flashlight to turn off the light, she stood up with a bit of a wobble, brushed herself off, then turned around to head back the way she came hoping she'd end up back at the Manor. She didn't even look back, because she could feel his eyes watching her and she didn't need to turn around and confirm it.


	6. Birdy

"I thought you weren't supposed to be back yet?"

"What did he say?"

"What did you say?"

"You were just sitting out there?"

That's what she was greeted with when she finally made it back to the manor. She didn't even answer anyone, she just walked right past them, collapsed on the couch and pulled the throw blanket over her entire body including her face to block out the sun and the noise so that she could sleep. Just for a little while…she'd been awake for way too long.

She slept through the entire day, waking up just as the sky outside was turning pink and orange. The sky was her cue, so she didn't even brush her hair or her teeth…she just set right back out into the woods, bringing her flashlight and a little snack just in case things turned into a staring contest again. Shoes crumpled the ground below her as she headed in the direction she'd gone to before, settling in the spot that looked like the same spot they were in the night before. However, she didn't see him there. She didn't expect to…he probably had other things to do like killing wild animals or something. Y'know, wildman stuff. She just brushed off the thought and sat back down there, flashlight pointing its light up into the sky like some beacon, though she half-heartedly didn't want to be found. She would've been completely content in just laying there outside in solitude so she could keep telling herself how stupid she was for doing this. But then she heard it.

"Birdy?"

Her head shot up, startled. But even more, she was confused. Birdy? "What did you call me?" she replied, turning her flashlight to shine it in his face. And quite frankly, he didn't look like he was all there. "Birdy I'm sorry…I'm sorry, I'm sorry…Birdy…" he was rambling, and every word sent shivers down her spine. "Who the fuck is Birdy?!" she said sternly to him. "I'm not Birdy!" She continued to bellow, being cross. But alas, he wasn't listening. He just kept on rambling about this Birdy character. "Birdy…Birdy I'm sorry…I'm sorry I hurt you, I hurt you I'm sorry…Birdy…Birdy." This was getting annoying, and she smacked her hands against the ground yelling, "For the last time I'M NOT BIRDY!" And yet again, he wasn't listening. Giving up she quieted down some, trying to assess the situation. He wasn't being coherent with her she knew that much…but how was she going to figure out what the fuck he was rambling about. So she decided to play along.

"You hurt me, Victor?"

"Birdy…I hurt you..you don't remember?"

"Wouldn't you think I'd know if you hurt me or not?"

"But I did, Birdy. That night,"

"What night?"

"That night, under the bridge."

"Honey that wasn't me, that was Lydia…you remember her right?"

"No, it was you I swear it was…"

"No Victor, it wasn't me…you know I wouldn't lie to you…"

And it was like clockwork. His pupils shrunk, and it looked like he was pushed back into reality. He realized what had happened. "Jesus fucking Christ…" he muttered, rubbing his temples as he looked away as if ashamed. Her own eyes softened as she heard his smite, sighing quietly to herself before she asked something that was pushing the boundaries."Victor….who's Birdy?"

She looked so confused, wondering who belonged to this mysterious name, but she could pry no answer from him. He was silent, as if trying with all his might to erase the memory of the stupor he'd gone into. He was trying to keep a handle on himself, but the animal wanted to roar, wanted to blurt out who Birdy was and what he had done to her. But he couldn't. His jaw was locked, sharp teeth grinding against each other as he restrained his fist from turning around and punching a tree right in the heart.

She saw the wild look in his eyes, that feral look where his reason would suffer at the mercy of instinct. But what could have triggered it? Did she really anger him that much, just by what she asked? She pushed herself back a few inches just to put some ground between them, not looking for a repeat of their last little fiasco. Remember, she still had the scars right there in plain sight across her face. She didn't need another set to make the scars a pair. She then shifted her weight so she could sit on her knees, hands on her lap as she attempted to make eye contact with his wilder ones. They looked as if they had no place to focus, shifting back from what was in front of him to what was in his head.

That look made her entire heart sink, as if it were lead thrown right into the sea. All this time she thought she was the one who was scarred, but was it really him the one that had to deal with scars? Hers were physical but something he carried in his mind was a scar much worse than any flesh wound. Something she did must have opened the old wound and it caused quite a retching in her, trying to discover what could have done it. Disappearing without a notice, rhyme or reason must have done it or at least been a part of it. She already was feeling the guilt from that, but what else? What else? Was it about her mentioning the name 'Birdy'? She had to know, yet this was a very delicate manner it seemed. She couldn't just go barging in with questions.


	7. Lesson

It was a long time before either of them said anything again. This silence between them, this lull seemed to be becoming a staple in their relationship. What did they call it? Love in limbo. They were in limbo, because nothing was being said. There was just silence in between the questions that weren't being answered. She didn't want to pressure, and he sure as Hell didn't want to answer.

He was probably protecting his dignity, protecting the reputation he worked so hard to create. Now this dark-haired little hellcat crossed his path and virtually fucked everything up for him, because she distracted him. He worried about more than just himself and his reputation, now watching this fragile little mutant girl who was way too young for his two-hundred year old body, even if he didn't look a day past forty. But still, the fact of the matter was that somehow, probably unintentionally, she captivated him. Like a cat watching a sparkling ball, she was the toy he could play with but he couldn't bear to break. When others tried to play with her, he seemed to always know and would always stop them. He was protecting what was his, and he hated it. He wanted to stop paying attention, to stop watching her like a fucking hawk. He felt like a God-damn Edward Cullen for fuck's sake, keeping tabs on his Bella Swan. Now, he wasn't a vampire and Lydia wasn't a human girl begging to get bitten, but still it was the principle of the thing. Even if Lydia could hold her own, Victor just could not in any way shape or form stop himself from keeping an eye on her. He knew her scent like the back of his hand, and he could track her anywhere and know where she'd been. He could be standing in a crowd of two-hundred people and be able to pick her out of the crowd. But he didn't want to. He wanted to be out here, alone, and with no little girl to distract him from being the animal.

But wasn't this something that a certain someone could do, some years ago? Granted the method was different, but still. She kept the animal calmed down and kept him thinking straight. She settled the bloodlust with those little psi-bolts of hers. Birdy did all that. And now Lydia, without even lifting a finger, was doing the same thing. He didn't understand how it had happened, it just did. But still, it was uncanny how the both of them could do the same thing to him in different ways. They must've been related, but that was in a perfect world. He was probably just getting bogged down, and Lydia caught him in the midst of his slump. That was all. Had he been thriving on lots of fighting and blood, he probably wouldn't have even bothered with the runt, she probably would have been brushed off and left to sit on the sidelines while he kept on claiming his infamous glory.

Still, he was thinking about Birdy. He was thinking about how he was going to explain her without remembering what his own son did to her. His own flesh and blood, Graydon Creed, killed Birdy in cold blood. That wretched boy that came from a short while of Victor and Raven being together some long time ago, Victor had wanted to kill that thing for years. He was embarrassed enough that his own son wasn't even a mutant, but it annoyed him even more that Graydon hated mutants altogether. Guess it didn't help when he had the most ridiculous parents imaginable. Any kid would get scarred by that information. Still, he already wanted to off the kid, and when he killed Birdy he moved it to one of the higher things on his list of things to accomplish. It was about three spots underneath 'Kill Jimmy', so it was pretty important to him. He'd get his chance, one day. Until then, he'd lie in wait. He'd get his revenge.

He then finally spoke up.

"She was someone I used to know." Bullshit. Say more, big guy. "Birdy…Birdy was a telepath. I couldn't tell ya how she got mixed up with me, but it happened," he started, his eyes softening but he refused to make eye contact with Lydia. Instead he focused on the trees behind her, finding that focusing kept him talking, somehow. "She wasn't no ordinary telepath though, I'll tell ya. She was like my conscience, she shot some psi-bolts in my head when she saw I was getting too rowdy. I had a major bloodlust then, and she made sure I didn't just go killing some random guy just for the sport. She was my partner in crime, much like you, only different." He then paused there a second, taking a moment to breathe and blink. He hadn't blinked the entire time he said that. "We had gotten….close. Too close," he then started up again, claws tapping against his knee. "It bit her in the ass one day, she snuck up on me without seeing what was in my head and I freaked out on her. What I did to you, it was nothing in comparison. I slashed her, I threw her on the floor, and I tried to strangle her. She would've died had she not shot a psi-bolt at me last minute. It knocked me out for a day, and when I woke up she was gone. Just like you." And that's where he stopped, closing his eyes and shifting so that he sat up a bit straighter on the ground. He needed to stiffen up, and not soften up like he was doing.

Lydia listened to every word, every syllable and if she could, every single letter of his little monologue. So Birdy was a telepath, and she was a partner in more ways than one. She connected the similarities and differences between herself and the newly acquainted memory of the telepath, slowly piecing together why Victor had so suddenly snapped his mind backwards in time, thinking that she was Birdy. Because somehow by a twist of fate she was doing the very same thing to him that Birdy had been doing with her psi-bolts. And just like her, when she was attacked by Victor she ran away from the problem. Was she following her same fate? Lydia had to ask. "Did you ever find out what happened to her?"

"I watched my son kill her in cold blood."


End file.
